


Kings of Troy

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Human, Derek Has Issues, Derek in a wheelchair, M/M, Mental Health Issues, OCD, Past Rape/Non-con, Scott is a Good Friend, Slow Build, Stiles Has Issues, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:44:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn't know that there were people who were so lonely that they were willing to pay someone to be their friend.</p><p>But then again, his social circle consisted of Scott and his dad. So he couldn't really judge. </p><p>Plus the guy was in a wheelchair, you can't judge a guy in a wheelchair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings of Troy

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based off of the book Me Before You, but less cheesy (I hope) and lots of changes. But the basic idea is taken from there.  
> Warnings at the bottom, for spoilers and whatnot.   
> Hope this isn't totally awful, but essentially this is self-indulgent for me for some good ole angst.

We took all our broken pieces   
And like a puzzle they somehow fit  
I know this world can be so vicious  
We won't let them win. –Kings of Troy by Priory

“Scott what am I supposed to do?” Stiles groaned into the phone.

“Stiles, you need to calm down.”

“I am calm! Perfectly and completely calm. In fact, I think that it’s you who is the one that is currently freaking out right now and not me because I am so calm that it’s ridiculous and-“

“Stiles!”

“Okay okay.”

“You need to breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“You know what I mean. Breathe with me…in and out.”

“I know how to breathe.”

“Jack ass.”

“But Scott, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Stiles, this happens to people all the time.”

“Yeah, I know! But most people who get fired don’t have a shit ton of student loans to pay off for a degree they haven’t even gotten yet and a father to pay rent to.”

“I still don’t understand why you pay rent to your dad. I mean c’mon, it’s your dad.”

“Because it’s bad enough I already dropped out of college, I don’t want to be a free loader on top of that too. I’m twenty two years old, I should be out living in an apartment somewhere wearing hipster glasses and thinking about grad school or vaginas.”

“Dude, you’re totally gay.”

“Okay fine! I would be thinking about dicks! I just didn’t think your heterosexual mind would be okay with thoughts of me having thoughts about dicks.”

“I’m cool.”

“Scott I need to focus! Stiles not having a job right now is a serious issue!”

“Why don’t you just get another one?”

“Thank you Scott McCall for that genius insight.”

“Dude how hard could it be?”

“It took me three months to find the one I just lost!”

“Why don’t you just try and get it back?”

“They fired me for my…tendencies.”

“Oh.”

“Said they weirded out the customers.”

“Well, maybe you should find a job not working with people. How about you talk to Deaton? I’m sure he would let you have my old job!”

“Allergic to dogs.”

“Oh yeah…well…”

“Let’s face it, I’m fucking hopeless. The only skills I have were being able to sell people overpriced Icrap.”

“And you were great at it!”

Stiles groaned.

“Alright, alright, I think I may have something for you.”

“What Scott?”

“My mom said someone had recently come into the hospital asking around for a personal assistant for someone in a wheelchair.” 

“So…like a stay-at-home nurse?”

“No. My mom said it wasn’t exactly medical but more of like…companionship.”

“What does that mean? A prostitute? You want me to suck someone’s dick for money?”

“No! I think it’s like just being with them and making sure they won’t be all lonely. My mom said the guy doesn’t need someone for medical reasons, just personal. And I’m sure you would get the job because no one at the hospital showed any interest!”

“Do you think it’s a good idea…considering y’know…”

“Stiles, I think you over exaggerate how much people notice them. Your old boss was probably just being a huge a-hole bringing it up when he fired you.”

“Thanks Scotty.”

“Anytime.”

“So, you think I should go for it?”

“Yes! I’ll have my mom send you all the information. And it pays well too!”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

Stiles hung up after a few more minutes of talking with Scott, feeling both relieved and stressed.

A personal assistant? Companionship? Who the fuck needs to hire someone just to have someone to talk to? 

Stiles guess a lot of things have led to this point in his life where he contemplating what to wear for his interview for a job that requires him to essentially hang out with a person who can’t walk, but if he starts to think about them then he starts to panic and when he starts to panic he starts to really panic and then his dad freaks out and calls his doctor and his doctor says he needs to stop calling so much and he’s already bordering on the edge of panic and really panicking so he would rather not think about his past life choices.

It’s been four days since Scott’s mom had sent him all the information concerning his next potential job. 

It has been three days since he called the number listed and scheduled an interview.

It has been two days since Stiles’ father made him leave the house to buy a shirt that “Doesn’t look like it belongs to an adolescent boy.” His dad’s words…not Stiles’.

And it has been three hours since Stiles last thought of the incident. Almost a new record.

A knock at the door brings Stiles out of his thoughts and he turns to see his father at the door. “You getting ready?”

Stiles looks down at himself wearing his new shirt and his very stain free pants. “I feel like…not me.”

“That’s how you’re supposed to feel before an interview.”

“But at school they taught me to always be myself.”

“Yeah…well…” Sheriff Stilinski trails off. School was a touchy subject, even after almost three years.

“Would you hire me?”

“No.”

“Dad!” Stiles says.

Sheriff Stilinski cracks a smile, “But only because that would be nepotism. So what is this job you’re applying for? Being an assistant?”

“I don’t know. Ms. McCall called it ‘paid companionship’ but that just makes me think of…well, you know…”

“I know.”

“Essentially it’s just like hanging with this disabled guy.”

“It has to be a little more than that.”

Stiles shrugs as he pulls on his jacket and steps out of his room, flicking the lights off, on and then off once more before closing the door. Sheriff Stilinski watched the procedure with a tight smile. “Ready?”

“I was born ready.”

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“Daaad,” Stiles said in a high pitched whine. “I’m an adult, I can drive myself to a job interview.”

“If you say so.”

Stiles had grown up in Beacon Hills and so naturally, he knew the Hales. He remembered the tragic fire that had caused the death to Mrs. and Mr. Hale along with the youngest one, Cora. That memory was particularly painful because it had been so close to his own mother’s diagnosis and so he tried to not think of the Hales because it naturally led to thoughts of the fire which led to thoughts of his own mother and that led to him almost calling his doctor again.

But his doctor said Stiles had to stop calling so much. So he learned to work with it.

But Stiles also remembered being at the station when Derek and Laura Hale had been brought in before being whisked off to the hospital to be with their Uncle Peter, their only living relative who was also horribly burned from the fire.

He remembered seeing Derek’s ashen face and his eyes red, shining with unshed tears. He remembered his father giving Derek his Sheriff’s jacket. 

Stiles didn’t remember much else. But he remembered the misery.

It had been a shock to realize that it was Laura Hale who was the one that was hiring for the job. The last he remembered of Laura and Derek was that they had moved off to New York once she had graduated. 

No one had heard of them since.

Except for now of course. 

Stiles wasn’t surprised that he didn’t know that the Hales were back in town. He didn’t know much of what was going on. He didn’t like to run into familiar faces around Beacon Hills because that led to curiosity and questions like “Weren’t you at Berkeley?” pop up and then…well…

Stiles did not want to think of those things while he was preparing for his interview.

But in general, he made an effort to only talk to Scott and his dad and Scott’s girlfriend, Allison.

As Stiles pulled up to Laura Hale’s house, a question finally came into his mind: Who was in the wheelchair? 

He had spent so much time thinking about what the job actually entailed and freaking out over how his dad apparently disapproved of his normal wardrobe choices and that he got fucking fired from his last job that he somehow never had the time to actually consider the person who he would potentially get hired to…well…be with.

Was it Laura Hale? Peter Hale? Derek Hale? Someone whose last name didn’t start with Hale? Laura’s husband? Son?

The possibilities were endless. So he wouldn’t try to face them.

The unknown used to interest Stiles. Now it presented a world of thoughts and endless ways in which things could go wrong. 

So no thanks.

Stiles tried once again to not think of all of these things as he walked up to Laura Hale’s front door and rang the doorbell.

His hands were sweaty. He was tempted to wipe them off on his pants but he wasn’t sure if that would stain them and they were so stain free and who knows when he would have stain free pants again and-

The door opened.

Laura Hale was standing. Ok, she is not the one in a wheelchair. But she did look like a woman on a mission in her neatly pressed pant suit and slicked back hair. 

“Hi, I’m Stiles Stilinski,” he said and stuck out his hand. 

Laura took his hand and he could see her grimace at his sweatiness. Dammit, was hoping she wouldn’t notice. Try to be cool. Be cool please. Pay attention, she’s speaking.

“Come in,” and she stepped aside. “I’m Laura, but you should already know that.”

“Ah yes, I do in fact…know…that, yes.” Stiles entered and took a seat at the table where Laura gestured for him to seat. She sat on the other side.

“You seem nervous.”

“Me? No. I never get nervous. I’m always cool as cucumber.” Laura arched an eyebrow. Stiles swallowed nervously. 

“Stilinski you say?” Stiles nodded. “Like the Sheriff Stilinski?” Another nod. Laura scribbled something down on a legal pad.

“So Mr. Stilinski, you ever work with people before?”

“What do you mean…people,” Stiles asked and then mentally kicked himself in the groin. 

“Do you have any experience working as a caregiver or with people with disabilities. Things like that?”

“Well, I’m only twenty-two, so I don’t have much experience doing anything. But not like that! I mean I do have some experience, a lot of sexual experience…wait, I did not mean to say that! I’m normal I promise.” 

Laura’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Just work experience would be fine.”

“Yes, I know…since this is a job interview. Okay, well I worked at the Apple Store for a while, but not anymore…obliviously. I mowed lawns once as a teenager…umm, I babysat once also, but then I killed their fish so they didn’t invite me back.”

“So, no experience with people in wheelchairs?”

“No.”

“That’s fine. Really, my brother-“

“Wait!” Stiles interrupted, throwing social politeness out the window. “Your brother, Derek, is the one in a wheelchair.”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just, you know, he didn’t used to be and um…”

Laura’s small smile disappeared and was replaced with a stern frown. Stiles immediately stopped talking. 

“Anyways,” she continued, “my brother doesn’t have too many medical needs. And the ones he does, he is capable of taking care of or I am and we have a personal doctor who comes by and checks on him once a week. Really,” And she leaned in real close as if telling a secret to Stiles, “I’m worried about him. He’s never been too social before…but now, he doesn’t seem to show any interest in anything.”

“So…no medical stuff.”

“No. I really just want someone to just be with him. I’ve started working a lot and he can’t drive. I think it would be nice for him to have someone who will take him to museums or the park or…” she trailed off, staring down at her hands.

Stiles wanted to comfort her. He wanted to say he knew what it was like to see a loved one suffer and to be the loved one suffer. He had seen the same defeated look in his dad’s eyes all the time.

But Stiles never said these things out loud. So he settled for, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

She smiled. “And you seem…upbeat, different.” 

“That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“Do you want to meet Derek now? He lives with me because it’s only been a year or so since his accident and I don’t want him alone and…” 

“Sure.” 

Laura stood up and Stiles followed her to a separate room. He noticed as he walked that there wasn’t a lot of furniture and that most things seemed to be perfectly spaced apart for a wheelchair to pass through with ease.

At the entrance to a new room, Laura gestured for Stiles to pause and she entered in. “Derek, I have your new-“

“Paid friend,” a gruff voice said.

“He’s not that. He’s just going to be here with you, take you places.”

No answer.

“Stiles, come in!” Laura called.

The other room was simple enough with a couch and television and a bookcase off to a side. There was some Discovery Channel show playing on the T.V. But Stiles wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

His attention was drawn to the other occupant in the room…the one in the wheelchair. 

Stiles couldn’t remember what teenage Stiles looked like, but he knew one thing and that one thing was that puberty had been very kind to Derek…minus the whole wheelchair. Derek simply looked like he was carved from marble, and then had some stubble sprinkled on as well. 

Laura was an attractive girl with long dark hair, but compared to her brother she looked practically homeless. 

Derek made being disabled look good.

Stiles stood with his mouth open like a fish for a solid thirty seconds before he finally realized that he was not watching porn and came back to himself. “Hi, I’m Stiles.”

“He’s the Sheriff’s son,” Laura added with a smile.

“Derek,” Derek said.

“I guess we’ll be hanging out…” Stiles said.

“Yes. My sister seems to think that I need a glorified version of a babysitter simply because I can’t walk.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so grumpy about it,” Laura said in a false cheery voice then she turned to Stiles. “Anyways, you’ve met him. You are expected to be here at nine in the morning since that’s when I leave for work and you can leave at four. Any questions?”

“I have one: why are you in here when I’m trying to watch Survivor?” Derek grumbled.

“Shut up.”

“Um…no, I’m good…yeah, no questions for Stiles,” Stiles said.

“Good, leave,” Derek said.

Stiles looked to Laura for confirmation and she nodded which he took as his cue to leave.

“See you tomorrow Stiles,” Laura said as he passed by her to leave.

He made it to his car and down the street before finally letting out a long breath. His hands trembled and he was tempted to call someone, but who would he call? And what would he say?

Why was he freaking out? He knew that some change would happen with a new job. Maybe it was because he wasn’t able to turn off the lights in his way, but he thought that he had had a breakthrough with that last year. Now he only had to do that with his own bed room.

Stiles pulled over on the side of the road and buried his face in his hands.

Maybe it was because Derek was the first man he had found attractive since well…he wasn’t going to think of him now. Not now, not ever.

Stiles took a few deep breaths and tried to think of all the good things in his life…Scott, dad, Allison, his jeep, his new job, curly fries, Derek’s face…

Ah fuck. Stiles was so fucked. 

 

“How did it go?” Scott asked during their daily phone call later that night.

“Well, it couldn’t have gone worse. But it also couldn’t have gone better.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, I made a complete asshat of myself and somehow managed to bring up my sexual experience in the conversation. But apparently that’s a thing that potential employers look for, so I did get the job,” Stiles said. He had the phone pressed between his shoulder and his cheek and was currently organizing his sock drawer by sex appeal.

“Congrats!”

“Yeah yeah, I know, I’m amazing.”

“So, what are you going to be doing?”

“Well, get this, it’s actually Derek Hale whose the one in the wheelchair.”

“Hale? Why does that sound familiar?”

“Really Scott?” Stiles asked, becoming increasingly exasperated with his friend. “Fire. Tragic loss of life. Ring any bells?”

“Now it does. I thought that Laura and Derek lived somewhere else.”

“They did. But people like to come home after a tragedy you know…it’s just nice to be somewhere familiar…” Stiles trailed off and looked around at his childhood room.

He hadn’t changed anything since he had moved back home. It was a perfect time machine back to his life as an angsty high schooler.

Scott coughed and continued, “So what are you doing for him?”

“Just like being there with him. His sister, Laura, works a lot so she’s worried about him being at home all by himself. And he can’t drive so she wants me there to like drive him to museums, shit like that.”

“Does Beacon Hills even have museums?”

“I don’t know man. Anyways, enough about me, how’s college life going?” 

“Stressful.”

“I bet.”

College was an awkward topic between the two of them even now. Scott understood this, but he also understood Stiles’ need to be treated as normal as possible so he allowed the small talk and usually never went into much detail.

“I should be able to graduate in May though, which is a relief,” Scott added.

“Great. How’s Allison?”

“She’s doing good. She’ll be happy to know that you got another job so soon. She was about to call her dad and make him hire you.”

“I can’t imagine working around all those guns…or Mr. Argent…” Stiles shuddered.

Scott laughed. “He’s not that bad once you get to know him…actually, I take that back, he might actually get worse.” There was a pause. “Hey buddy I hate to cut this off early, but Allison is here and it’s date night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow? Eight thirty?”

“You crazy kids have fun now, use protection. I don’t want to be Uncle Stiles just yet.”

“See you Stiles.”

“Bye Scotty.”

Stiles ended the call and closed his sock drawer with a soft sigh. Scott had gotten better about not blowing Stiles off for Allison all the time, high school had been a low point in their broship and even after Scott and Allison went to Santa Cruz and Stiles went to Berkeley, Scott still made a point to make their friendship a priority.

And Stiles understood that he had struck the bro gold mine with Scott. He doubted anyone else would really agree to put up with half of his shit whereas Scott put up with all of it and more. 

Stiles also understood that Allison and Scott were in a romantic relationship that was only heading for marriage and that to maintain a healthy relationship one needed to spend more time with said romantic interest than with OCD, ADD best friend.

But still, it hurt every time Scott blew him off, no matter how slight, for Allison. It was just a reminder that Scott was out living the young, American blooded dream. He had a great girl, a great future ahead of him, three-quarters of a college degree.

Stiles had…well, he had his childhood home, his right hand for a relationship and was he missing anything? Nope. That was his life in a nutshell. 

He threw his phone on the ground and flopped onto his bed, burying his face into a pillow. It was a big day tomorrow, first day of his new job; he needed a good night’s sleep. 

But Stiles was not lucky to get that. Half of the night he was up, tossing and turning amongst his sheets that somehow reached the temperature of the sun while he was underneath them, but then the second he threw the sheets off the bed his room reached absolute zero. The other half of the night was spent watching YouTube videos.

These events led to thirty minutes before nine with Stiles in his kitchen on his third coffee of the morning. Sheriff Stilinski didn’t bother giving his son a lecture of mixing caffeine and ADD, but instead simply gave him a “Good luck” slap on the back before heading to work.

His hands shook the whole drive to the Hale’s and Stiles was starting to wonder if his dad was actually right about the effects of caffeine, but then considered the other possibility of living a life without coffee and decided that it was worth it.

If he died at twenty-five of a caffeine induced heart attack or stroke, he blamed YouTube.

There was a note on the front door when Stiles walked up. It simply read “Come on in, door unlocked.” He ripped it off and stuck it in his front pocket, not wanting any unwanted visitors to think they could just pop on in.

Hey, Sheriff’s son. He took locking doors and preventing break ins seriously.

“Hello?” Stiles called out as he walked in.

“Hi.” And Stiles absolutely did not let out a high pitched scream when Derek Hale wheeled out from behind a corner. Derek simply arched an eyebrow (apparently eyebrow skills ran in the family). 

“Sorry, you startled me.”

Derek scoffed. “Laura left already for work. She said that I’m supposed to show you around and let you know what I want to do today.”

“Alright…so what do you want to do today? I mean, I have my jeep so we can drive-“

“I have a car.”

Stiles jumped slightly at being interrupted, a little on edge from the large amount of coffee he had consumed. “Okay. Or we could take your car. I’m up for whatever so whatever you want to do I am up for it.”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.”

“Well…”

Derek wheeled closer so he was within a couple of inches of Stiles and even though he couldn’t stand, Stiles was impossibly intimidated by the man. Probably because of the eyebrows. “Listen, I have no clue why my sister even thought I would need an overpaid babysitter when I am a fully grown and capable adult. I do not need my sister to be my mom and arrange play dates for me. I know what she’s doing, she thinks I can’t make friends on my own or take care of myself or keep myself occupied while she’s gone.”

“Well, I mean-“

“No, just stop, Sam, or whatever your name is. I don’t know how much my sister is paying you, but I’ll pay you double to quit.”

“Stiles.”

“What?” Derek asked.

“Um…my name is Stiles,” Stiles said, suddenly forgetting how to speak in a normal voice.

“What kind of name is that?”

“Well…it’s a nickname because my real name-“

“I didn’t ask for your whole life-story!” And with that Derek backed up and wheeled to the room he had been in the previous day.

Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels for a solid minute before saying “Fuck it” and followed after Derek. “Hey, listen here. Just because you’re in a wheelchair doesn’t give you the excuse to be a complete ass to someone you don’t even know, aka me. Your sister obliviously thinks you need someone around the house and that’s what I’m here for. I’m not going to be bribed to quit so you’re stuck with me.”

Derek’s face revealed no emotion or any clue at all to what he was thinking. “You said your name was Stiles?”

“Yes.”

“You can go clean my room. Laura won’t do it for me and I can’t.”

Stiles was taken aback. “I’m not a fucking maid.”

“What, college boy too good to clean for me?” Derek asked with a sneer. 

The use of the phrase college boy struck a nerve within Stiles. He clenched his fists so hard that his nails began to dig into his skin and leave imprints there. “I’m not a college boy.”

Derek’s smirk grew bigger. “Okay, then you should get used to cleaning then since it’s going to be your future after this job.”

“Fuck you.” 

“My room is down the hall, second to the right. Cleaning supplies are in the bathroom.” And with a flick of Derek’s hand, Stiles was dismissed.

Stiles grumbled to himself as he begrudgingly left the room and walked down the hall to where Derek’s bedroom was located. If there was one thing the Apple Store had taught him was that you do the work no matter what. You’re getting paid to do it.

And Stiles could see Derek’s side which pissed him off even more. He understood what it felt like to have loved ones try to help and it be not what you need. He understood pity from strangers and to lose all sense of who you were.

He could only imagine what it must be like to be in a wheelchair. Stiles loved his legs. He loved being able to walk. He especially loved being able to run away from responsibility and awkward encounters with people from high school at the grocery story.

So he cleaned the man’s room. And he did a damn good job of it. The clothes were folded, the bed was made, the windows were cleaned and the dust was…well, dusted. 

And it was only noon.

Stiles dreaded going back and facing the angry young man, but he also didn’t want to hide from him. He wanted this to work. He needed this job. He needed the money. But most of all, Stiles needed to know that he could interact with someone besides Scott and his dad.

All of his therapists and doctors had told him that if he ever wanted to go back to normal life he needed to improve his social skills, to overcome his social anxiety.

So here he goes.  
“Derek,” Stiles starts, but stops when he sees that the room that Derek had been in earlier was empty. He turned around and entered the main living room, continually calling out Derek.

Just when panic was starting to set in, a voice came from the kitchen, “In here.”

The kitchen was seemingly normal, except Stiles noticed that all of the counters were much lower than any other house he had ever seen. It took him a few seconds to realize that this was probably for Derek so he could reach from his chair.

Engineering truly was clever.

“I cleaned your room. It’s so spotless you can do surgery in there,” Stiles said. Derek was in his chair at the dining table, a sandwich in front of him. He simply nodded at Stiles’ news and went back to eating. “Is there anything else you want? I could make you lunch…or another lunch if you want, since you obliviously have something.”

“No.”

“Okay, well I’m going to go get my own lunch from my car then if you don’t need anything.”

“You can make yourself something…here,” Derek said hesitantly, as if he felt awkward about offering Stiles anything, which he probably did considering he had essentially yelled at Stiles earlier and called his job and insulted his integrity. And yes, Stiles was still hurt by that. Thanks for asking.

“Oh no. I sort of have this um…preference to eat my own lunch. It’s just, yeah, okay,” Stiles said and ran out to his car before any other questions could be asked. 

Yes, he was a normal guy. He just liked to eat the same thing for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. Lunch was a peanut butter and banana sandwich without the crusts.

Breakfast was coffee.

Dinner involved a salad and potatoes.

He could eat whatever else he wanted for snacks. But the big three meals were set in stone. 

He used to have to eat all of his meals at a certain time every day, 8:00 for breakfast, 12:00 for lunch and 7:00 for dinner. But he supposed intensive therapy and time had helped him move past that.   
When Stiles returned to the kitchen with his brown bag, Derek was staring him down. Stiles didn’t dare sit at the same table as him so he just stood and unwrapped his sandwich.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said after a solid five minutes of silence (not that Stiles had been counting or anything). “About earlier. It’s just; my sister has been kind of…yeah. But I guess, thanks for you know…coming here and cleaning.”

Stiles had a feeling that Derek was even worse at talking about feelings than he and his dad were. So he simply gave a thumbs up and said, “No problemo.”

The silence came back. Derek simply sat and watched Stiles eat and Stiles ate and watched Derek watch him eat. Following lunch, Derek wheeled himself back to the room (which Stiles deemed Derek’s Den of Escaping from Feelings). He left his plate sitting on the table.

“Caveman,” Stiles grumbled as he washed it.

The afternoon consisted of Derek hiding away in his den and Stiles sitting on the couch playing Plague Inc.

He was in the middle of an extremely difficult round where Greenland had yet to be infected and already the cure was 95% developed when Laura Hale came home. 

Immediately his phone was shoved in his pocket and Stiles was attempting to look like he had been straightening pillows on the couch. Another lesson his past job had taught him was that people did not like their employees to play games on their phones, no matter how well thought their argument may be that they are “demonstrating the product.”

“How was Derek today?” Laura asked.

“Well…um…”

“He was a pain in the ass?”

“Well…”

“It’s okay. I know he doesn’t really want you around, but I don’t care what he thinks. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, nine o’ clock.”

Stiles made for the door, but stopped. “You know…you shouldn’t say stuff like that. Even though he can’t walk…you should still consider his opinions.” And he was out of the house before he could get fired.

Almost two weeks had passed since Stiles began working for the Hales. On a scale of one to ten, he would have to give the job a solid 7.5, Derek’s face a 10, Derek’s personality a 3.1. 

He discovered that since Derek had zero interest in leaving his den to go to museums or parks or whatever the hell Laura thought he would be interested in, Stiles spent a lot of time cleaning Derek’s room, making snacks (that Derek never ate) and playing games on his phone. Occasionally, he would speak to Derek, but never longer than five minutes.

Stiles had actually begun to compile a list of acceptable topics with which to talk about with said Derek. They included: weather, hair gel, shows that involved people trying to survive, game shows, classic literature, what he was interested in eating, and Stiles’ incompetence. 

Topics of which to not discuss with Derek: his wheelchair, how he got in said wheelchair, Laura, his uncle, his family in general, the fire, New York, anything about his personal life, or essentially anything not listed in acceptable topics to discuss.

But Stiles was fine with that. He was sure Derek had his own list of things to talk about with him (or probably not since he was 90% positive that Derek had forgotten his name). 

Stiles had just left the Hale house after a solid day of awkward encounters and polite “excuse me, I need to clean here, could you wheel yourself somewhere else” exchanges. Normally, Stiles would head straight home, but as of right now the Stilinski house was dangerously low on food so he made an emergency trip to the store.

And it was because they happened to be out of peanut butter at the Stilinski house that Stiles was in the aisle for peanut butter. And he liked a certain brand that was very hard to find so he spent an unusually long time in said aisle. And then he got distracted comparing fat contents of a brand of hazelnut spread. And all of this led to this happening.

“Stiles?” a familiar voice asked.

Stiles whipped around to face a very familiar strawberry blonde Lydia Martin. He instantly started to sweat…everywhere. “Oh, uh, hi Lydia.” He spotted Grade-A asshole Jackson Whittemore standing behind Lydia with a very annoyed expression on his face.

Good, fuck you. You deserve to be annoyed. Hah.

“What are you doing here?” Lydia asked.

“Grocery shopping.” He gestured to his cart and the jar in his hand and well the store… “People who eat tend to do it.”

“No, I mean in Beacon Hills. Are you on break or…” 

Shit shit shit shit shit shit. She didn’t know.

After Stiles had dropped out of college, he had placed Scott in charge of breaking the news to their mutual friends from high school. He should have fucking known that Scott wouldn’t have done because Scott McCall is a freaking puppy that forgets anything you ask him to do unless it has to do with Allison.

“Yeah, well, I’m sort of not in school.”

“Still?” Oh, so she did know. “I thought you went back to Berkeley, that you had been taking a break.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jackson smirking. I hope you get eaten by a shark. 

“No,” he nervously laughed. How is this his life that he has to tell the girl he was in love with for ten billion years that he didn’t have the balls to go back to school or even enroll in community college. “I’m still here…not at college.”

Lydia, bless her heart, seemed to realize that this was an awkward topic and simply nodded. “Well, Jackson and I are on break right now. Decided to come home for one last time, escape the stress of senior year.”

“But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Jackson asked.

Stiles’ breathing increased ever so slightly. He had to leave, he had to get out of there, he had to-

“Are you okay?” Lydia asked, getting closer to Stiles which was so not okay. Personal space. Freaking out. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he stammered and then dropped his hazelnut spread, left his cart and ran out of the store. He made it to his jeep, locked the door and took several breaths that did absolutely nothing for him. 

“Goddammit fuck fuck fuck!” he cursed and hit his hands on the steering wheel. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and no! That was not okay! He was not going to cry because of fucking Jackson.

But he was going to freak out. His breathing quickened, his chest tightened, his hands were shaking. “Pull yourself together!” 

It was several minutes later before Stiles could even begin to breathe normally. He was sweating and his heart was racing like after a lacrosse game. His keys slipped from his fingers as he tried to pick them up and he cursed again. He buried his face in his hands and sat there.

Stiles had forgotten that Christmas was coming up soon. Of course people from high school would start popping up all over Beacon Hills and making him go into panic attacks. 

He was never leaving the house again. Except for his job, because money. And Derek didn’t ask him questions.

God bless Derek for being a self-centered asshole. 

When Stiles got home after officially being calm enough to drive without dying in a horrible accident, he was beyond relieved to see no police car in the driveway. 

He quickly made his normal dinner and that was when he remembered that he had left his cart full of groceries he desperately needed at the store. Like peanut butter. He had no peanut butter.

Fuck no not now. Not again. Stiles just ate his dinner and went to his room.

He supposed he could have his father pick him up some peanut butter, but his father knows him, knows his habits. The Sheriff would try to have yet another conversation about maybe “trying something new for a change” and Stiles was in no fucking way in the mood to have that today. So he would just have to go buy peanut butter before work tomorrow.

Everything would be fine.

Except it wasn’t. 

The following morning Stiles couldn’t go to the store because he had overslept after finally being able to fall asleep at three in the morning and his body desperately craved sleep and was so not ready to wake up in the morning.

So he was forced to rush everything and by the time he had made himself coffee, he was already almost ten minutes late to the Hales.

And here he was, coming to work thirty minutes past nine and breathing heavily. 

This was so not his twenty-four hours.

Derek looked up from where he was reading the newspaper at the table. “You’re later than usual.”

Stiles didn’t acknowledge him. He wasn’t in the mood for Derek’s bitterness directed towards him today. So he went to do his normal round of cleaning and generally avoiding the wheelchaired one.

Except today was the first day that apparently Derek wanted to have a conversation because he followed Stiles to the bedroom.

“What?” Stiles asked, snapping around to face the other man.

Derek’s eyebrows went into overdrive at that. “What’s wrong with you? You seem to be on edge.”

“How observant from a guy who doesn’t even know my name.”

“Your name is Stiles.”

“Good job. A plus,” Stiles spat. “Now why don’t you roll on back to your Fortress of Solitude.”

Derek let out an annoyed grumble. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re my employee and this is my room. And house.”

“Technically it’s your sister’s house. I mean, I don’t really see you contributing much to the gross income of the household by sitting around all your ass all day.”

The second the words left his mouth, Stiles knew he had gone too far. There were certain boundaries that you never crossed and one of them was mentioning to the guy in a fucking wheelchair that he was essentially a freeloader in his sister’s house.

“Well at least I didn’t drop out of college halfway through,” Derek said, his voice dripping with bitterness and anger.   
All of the blood drained from Stiles’ face which seemed to bring Derek some form of sick pleasure. “Oh yes Stiles, I do know about how you came running back to Beacon Hills only months after college started. Word gets around, especially about the Sheriff’s son.”

Stiles’ hands were shaking again and his heart was pounding. “You…you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And neither do you know what you’re talking about. You know nothing about me,” Derek growled and wheeled closer. “I may be in a wheelchair, but at least I have a college degree.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles whispered, too angry, upset, scared, frustrated, pissed, emotional to be able to speak in a normal voice.

“No Stiles. Fuck you.” And with that, Derek backed out of the room, leaving Stiles to his shaking hands and barely held back tears.

Fuck cleaning. Fuck doing anything for him. Derek Hale was an asshole, a glorified, too beautiful, bigger douchebag than Jackson kind of asshole. Any sympathy Stiles might have had for the man was lost instantly and replaced only with the kind of loathing he held for one certain man.

And he still didn’t fucking have any peanut butter.

And Lydia Martin was still in town with her douche bag of a boyfriend Jackson.

And his life was a complete mess.

And fuck it all, but Stiles finally let loose the tears that had been building for three years…in Derek the asshole’s bedroom. He didn’t make a noise, but simply allowed the tears to fall, hot angry tears.

Angry at Derek, angry at Lydia, at Jackson, at Scott and Allison and his dad and Berkeley and his mom for fucking dying and the unspeakable one who started this whole process that ended up with his life breaking down because of some asshole’s words and not having a peanut butter sandwich for lunch because he was so messed up he couldn’t even handle something as simple as lunch.

And of course it was at this moment that Stiles heard Derek enter the room again. The two men simply stared at each other, Derek seemed shock to see that Stiles was experiencing an emotional breakdown and Stiles was experiencing too many things aka an emotional breakdown to really be able to comprehend what was happening.

Awkward silence fell between them.

“I’m sorry,” Derek started, but Stiles cut him off.

“Cut the bull crap okay. I don’t want you to be all feeling sorry for me just because I shed a few tears. For the record, this is not because of you, this is because of so many other reasons that I won’t get into because you’re an asshole. And you are an asshole! A guy in a wheelchair whose an asshole! You don’t seen one of those every day! I mean, who makes fun of a guy for dropping out of college, that’s low. That’d be like me asking you something about, fuck, I don’t know, walking! So I don’t need your apology because I’m so done with it. And I’m done with you!”

Derek’s face didn’t reveal any emotion. Not even his eyebrows moved.

“Yeah, I’m done with you completely ignoring me all the time. I come here every day and you never even acknowledge my presence. A simple hello would be appreciated, but instead you fucking ignore me! That hurts man! And I don’t know how you are so messy! All you do is read! And you have no friends for parties so I have absolutely no idea how your room gets so messy every single day!” Stiles stopped, his heart still racing, his skin itching. “So, that’s it I guess. I’m done. I’m going to tell Laura I can’t do this anymore. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Derek still didn’t respond.

“You’re really not going to say anything?”

“It seems as if you’ve already made up your mind,” Derek said after a beat, his voice calm, collected. “I guess you’re just going to quit another thing that got hard.”

“Really? After all that you’re going to go for the low blow again?” Stiles spat at the other man.

Derek simply shrugged.

Stiles groaned, “You’re such an ass!”

“I would like to have my room now please.”

“Fine!” Stiles said and stomped past the man, feeling tempted to just push him over, but then his ethical side won out and decided against it. Even when people were assholes, they still deserved some bit of decency.

Stiles made it to the kitchen and pulled out his phone. With his hands shaking, he texted a quick 911 to Scott, but then instantly regretted it. He only talked to Scott during their nightly phone calls and knew that Scott would freak out at the text message even if it didn’t say 911. Scott knew how Stiles preferred things.

But then again, Stiles needed someone to talk to. Someone who wasn’t his father or an asshat in a wheelchair. 

Scott called after a minute of Stiles sending the message. “Stiles? What’s wrong?”

And just like that, Stiles started to pour everything out. He told Scott how he ran out of peanut butter at home and how he ran into Lydia AND Jackson at the grocery store and what they had said to him and how Derek had basically said what Stiles did not need to hear at the moment and how basically Stiles’ whole semblance of living a normal life was falling apart within a few hours.

“Stiles! Stiles! Calm down, breathe with me,” Scott practically shouted, cutting out Stiles’ ramble that was quickly turning into a panic attack.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said. It took a few more minutes, but eventually he calmed down enough to have a normal conversation with his friend.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah…I think so.”

“Stiles, first off, Jackson sucks,” Scott said.

Stiles cracked a small smile. “Everyone knows that.”

“Also, I don’t think you should quit your job. In fact, I know you shouldn’t quit.”

“Why not? Derek might be a bigger asshole than Jackson and I think I’ve had enough of dealing with those types of people for my lifetime.”

“Stiles, the guy is in a freaking wheelchair. He’s probably super bitter and angry. You can’t take what he says to heart. Also, how are you going to get another job that pays so well for virtually doing nothing?”

“I don’t do nothing.”

“You’re being paid to be his friend.”

Stiles sighed.

“Just suck it up and be his friend. Sure he may have said super hurtful things to you, but you just gotta deal with it. He doesn’t know your whole…situation…and like I said, he’s bitter and angry.”

Stiles groaned. “I know. I know. I won’t quit.”

“Good. Call me tonight. Don’t freak out before then please.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said. They were just two words, but Stiles tried to place all the gratitude he felt towards Scott for putting up with his panic attacks and freak outs from the past couple of years.

“Anytime,” Scott replied and hung up.

A small cough drew Stiles’ attention to the doorway where Derek was. The other man looked uncomfortable enough that Stiles knew he had heard the conversation and a blush made its way to Stiles’ cheeks.

“Oh…hi,” Stiles said, not making eye contact.

“So, you’re not going to quit now?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah…um, that was my friend Scott. He talked me out of it…” 

“And you don’t have any peanut butter?” More action with the eyebrows.

“Oh…you heard that?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s just um…well, I have these preferences and I just like to sort of…have things my own way. And one of those things includes food. I like the same thing for lunch every day-“

“Peanut butter and banana,” Derek said, and then looked surprised at himself, as if he himself didn’t know that he knew that.

“Yeah. And I ran out of peanut butter and well, some things went down at the grocery store and well. It just hasn’t been a very good…past couple of years,” Stiles said and let out a cold laugh at the complete piece of shit his life had turned into.

Derek wheeled himself into the kitchen and reached for a cabinet underneath the countertop. He pulled out a jar of peanut butter and placed it next to Stiles. “You can use this…if you want.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped as he picked up the jar. It was his favorite brand and everything. “Thank you.”

Derek’s jaw twitched. “We have bananas too, over there.” And he looked into the cabinet for a second time and pulled out a loaf of bread which he placed on the counter by Stiles again.

Stiles nodded and grabbed himself a banana. He hesitated, and then grabbed another one. Derek was about to experience the amazingness of his sandwiches.

“I’m sorry, about what I said earlier,” Stiles said after a few moments of silence as he prepared lunch.

Derek shrugged. “It’s alright. Most people just tend to ignore the chair.”

“I’m sure no one has insulted you about it or said you were useless because of it.”

“Not until today.”

“But really, I’m sorry.”

“We both said…not nice things to each other.”

Stiles finished the sandwiches and handed one to Derek. “Forgive and forget?”

Derek shrugged, but he took the sandwich and offered a slight grin. “Sure.”

“I don’t know how much of the conversation you heard between me and Scott…but well…just, I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of freak. I just have little…preferences, but I’m not a weirdo,” Stiles said, twisting his hands together.

“I know that.”

“I’m not sure what sort of rumors you may have heard around town…but just; don’t believe everything you hear…okay.”

“Stiles, trust me, I know exactly how not to believe everything I hear.”

Stiles thought back to after the Hale fire and the whispering that seemed to constantly go on around the town about possibilities of arson and the much older girlfriend of Derek Hale and insurance fraud.

“Okay, cool…well, not cool as in, good for you, but cool as in, cool that you understand, you know?” 

Derek’s mouth twitched again. “I get it.”

When they both had finished their sandwiches, they fell into somewhat comfortable silence. Stiles wasn’t sure, but he thought that he had come to a sort of understanding between them. They were both fucked up individuals.

“You like watching those Discovery shows right? The ones with survival?” Stiles asked after a couple of beats of silence.

Derek shrugged, looking slightly lost now that he had finished his sandwich and was just sitting with his hands limply in his lap. “I guess.”

“You love them and you know it. Have you ever seen Naked and Afraid?” Derek shook his head. Stiles’ face broke out in a big grin. “C’mon, you’re going to love it.”

Stiles still felt the crawl in his skin from Lydia and Jackson’s presence in Beacon Hills and from having so much change and from having to call Scott at not 8:30. But sitting in Derek’s den, watching television, he felt…not okay, but better. 

 

“So my friend Scott is coming back into town tomorrow,” Stiles said, more than a week later.

Things had changed drastically since Stiles had almost quit. No longer did he spend the majority of his time cleaning or playing games on his phone. Now he was doing what he was supposed to be- being Derek’s friend.

Stiles made Derek a peanut butter and banana sandwich every day now. Derek didn’t complain about the repetitiveness or the crusts being cut off, so Stiles kept making them.

Stiles had also found out that Derek had never seen any of the Star Wars movies so that led to a full blown movie marathon (just the first three. Stiles lived in a fantasy world where Episodes 1-3 did not exist) that extended far beyond his work hours. Laura had just walked into the room to see Stiles and Derek fully enraptured by the tales of Luke Skywalker and Han Solo and had just left them to it.

After that, Stiles realized that Derek’s movie knowledge was severely limited. Now he brought with him a new of his favorites every day. They had watched Up and the Matrix and were halfway through the Harry Potter series when Derek announced he hadn’t read the books either.

The next day, Stiles brought the box set for Derek.

He was cautious to call them friends (he was still technically being employed by Derek and his sister) but he wouldn’t call them what they were before.

Whatever they were, Stiles liked it. Derek was the only person he communicated with on a regular basis who wasn’t A) Scott or B) his dad. 

It was nice to be with someone who didn’t know everything that had happened. Who also struggled through issues with being judged by people. Who didn’t care that Stiles wasn’t all there sometimes, because Derek wasn’t all there sometimes either.

Scott was right. Derek was very bitter with his situation. Anyone could see that. Anyone could see the unhappiness in his face, the way he detested his chair or never looked in mirrors or the way he refused to leave the house and how sometimes Stiles could see pain lines on Derek’s face.

He never asked Derek about any of these things. Derek didn’t ask Stiles about college or his preferences or why he was so jittery. 

They had a mutual understanding of silence. Sort of like Mutually Assured Destruction. Any question about each other’s brokenness was sure to end in feelings and maybe tears and a lot of things that they had buried down deep inside.  
Plus, Stiles didn’t think they were good enough friends for that.

Once again, he was employed by the Hales. 

“Why is he coming home so late? Christmas is less than a week away,” Derek said. 

They were currently attempting to decorate the Hale’s Christmas tree. Stiles had been horrified to see that the two didn’t have a tree and so he had gone out and bought one and brought it over along with half of the Stilinski family ornaments. 

Derek had rolled his eyes, but agreed to decorate anyways. 

“He’s a very busy man. I guess. Actually, I don’t really know why. I guess he has better things to do in Santa Cruz than in Beacon Hills. Anyways, Scott wants to meet you!” 

“Meet…me…” Derek repeated slowly.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. He says he wants to know who I’ve been spending all my time with. He’s very clingy with our friendship.”

Derek rolled his eyes and held up another ornament for Stiles to place on the tree. The two had a good system going of Derek picking the ornaments out of the box and letting Stiles place them on the tree since Stiles could reach more places for obvious reasons.

“Oh don’t be like that. You know you want to get out and socialize more,” Stiles said.

“Does he know…about…well…?”

“Yes he knows you’re in a wheelchair. He was the one who told me about this job in the first place. Besides, it’s not like Scott would make that big of a deal out of it. His mom is a freaking nurse; he knows how to be politically correct.”

“When is he coming home tomorrow?”

“He said he would be here around noon. He’s coming back with his girlfriend Allison and he’s going over to her house for a little bit because her family is all about Argent bonding time plus Scott which really means that Allison’s dad likes to intimidate Scott.”

Derek’s face had gone pale at the mention of ‘Argent.’ His breathing picked up and he seemed to collapse within himself.   
Stiles immediately bent down to Derek’s eye level, recognizing the signs of panic immediately. “Derek? Hey, Derek, what’s wrong?” He was tempted to touch the other man, but that seemed to be going beyond the boundaries of their friendship.

And besides, he didn’t touch people very often. Not anymore.

Derek gave a slight nod and seemed to attempt to pull himself together. It didn’t work very well. “Yeah, um,” he coughed to clear his throat. “I didn’t know your friend was dating Argent.”

“Do you know the Argents?”

“You could say that…” Derek hesitated and then spoke his next words very slowly, as if it pained him to say them. “I dated her aunt…a while back.”

Stiles nodded, realization dawning on him as he remembered the stories of the much older girlfriend of Derek Hale and her possible connection to the Hale fire. Her identity had never been released to the press and as far as Stiles knew, she hadn’t ever faced any charges.

“Was this…around the time of the fire?” Stiles asked. They were heading into uncharted waters of their fragile friendship. There had been an unspoken agreement between the two of them to not bring up their sensitive issues and Stiles had just broken that unspoken agreement.

He was such an asshole. But hey, he was curious.

Derek nodded, face growing paler. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead.

“What happened to her?” God, Stiles was going to hell for making Derek talk about his demons.

“Dead.”

Stiles just nodded. And then after a moment, he placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder, just for a second, but the physical contact seemed to help ground Derek. “Do you want to continue with the tree?”

“Yeah…yeah, that’d be nice.”

Stiles straightened up and waited for Derek to hand him the next ornament. They were almost through all of the boxes that Stiles had brought over from his house.

The Sheriff had complained as to why Stiles was stealing all of their Christmas supplies for his boss, but hadn’t put any force behind his words. 

He seemed to be happy that Stiles seemed to be getting passionate about things, even if it was just decorating someone else’s house for the holidays.

“Did you make this?” Derek asked, holding up an ornament that had a small handprint on it and a badly scribbled ‘Stiles, 00’ underneath it.

“Maybe!” Stiles said, snatching it out of Derek’s hands and blushing.

Derek gave a small smile. “It’s cute.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Have you always been going by Stiles?”

“Yes. My real name is horrendously Polish and complex. My dad came up with Stiles when I was real young and it stuck because I can barely pronounce my real name.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they finished up the rest of the decorations. When all of the ornaments were placed on the tree, Stiles stepped back and smiled. “See, isn’t that so much better to be all in the holiday spirit?”

Derek wheeled himself back to where Stiles was standing. He shrugged, “I suppose.”

“Don’t be a Scrooge!” 

“Fine. It’s lovely,” though his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“So…Scott.”

“Oh yeah! Anyways, he wants to meet you tomorrow and in fact, so does my dad and Scott is coming to my house tomorrow for dinner and both my dad and Scott wanted to…see…if you wanted to come,” Stiles said. 

When Scott had proposed a dinner with Derek the other day over the phone and then his father had asked the same thing the next day, he knew the two had been scheming together.   
But he couldn’t blame them. Stiles knew he had a very limited social life and the fact that he even had mentioned Derek at home probably had set off alarms in Scott’s and his father’s head.

He knew they were worried about him. He knew they wanted to protect him from other people, wanted to check out Derek even though Stiles had told them several times he was harmless.

“He’s in a freaking wheelchair,” Stiles had told them both.

But still, he understood their desire for a dinner.

That still didn’t make the act of asking Derek over any easier nor the silence that came after any less awkward or uncomfortable.

Derek looked at Stiles, “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Stiles smiled. “Great. They’ll be thrilled. So I know I don’t work tomorrow since it’s a Saturday and all so do you want me to come and pick you up here. I know that part of my official duties involve driving you around…which I haven’t done at all…sorry.”

“It’s okay Stiles. I haven’t needed to go anywhere. And tomorrow, Laura can drive me. What time is dinner?”

“6 o’ clock.”

“Sounds good.”

“You’re going to regret agreeing to this.”

 

After Stiles had told the Sheriff that there would be a man in a wheelchair coming to dinner, his dad had erupted in full “make the house handicap accessible” mode.

Stiles was assigned to clearing all the furniture so that there were clear spaces for Derek to wheel himself through. His father spent the majority of the day building a ramp for Derek even though the only stairs the Stilinskis had were going upstairs.

“Dad, I don’t think he really is going to need that…” Stiles said after seeing the finishing product.

“Stiles, it’s called being courteous.”

“Dad we need to establish some guidelines for tonight.”

“Son, I think I know how to handle myself,” the Sheriff said, giving his son an exasperated look.

“Well Dad, you never know. Anyways, don’t tell embarrassing stories of me as a child. Don’t ask him any questions about the fire. Don’t be over polite about his wheelchair, but also don’t completely avoid it. I think he likes it if people ask about it casually. So be casual about it. Also, do not mention anything about you-know-what,” Stiles said, his face darkening at the last sentence.

The Sheriff nodded solemnly. “Son, I know better than to talk about that. And I have dealt with handicapped people before.”

“Well Dad, you made a fucking ramp so…”

“Language! Put a quarter in the swear jar.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Stiles said as he dug a quarter out of his jean pocket and placed it in the designated swear jar. “I am a grown man, I should not have to still put money in the swear jar.”

“Just because you’re twenty-two does not mean you can use bad language.”

Stiles was about to reply when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it! You start on dinner!” he screamed, racing for the door. It was too early for Derek to be there which could only mean that the person on the other side of the door was- “Scott!”

“Stiles!” Scott said, his face breaking into a huge smile. He reached out to give Stiles a hug, but hesitated, knowing his friend’s feelings towards physical contact.

But Stiles grabbed his friend into a bone crushing hug. After a few seconds, they broke the hug and Stiles reentered the house with Scott.

“Catch me up on everything!” Stiles said.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Dude, we talk every night. You know everything.”

“Not what happened at Allison’s house today! How was hanging with crazy-eyed Chris?”

Scott punched his friend lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t call him that. Besides, it was boring. Allison and I showed up and we had a very awkward lunch where almost no words were spoken. And then Chris asked if I wanted to help them decorate. I tried to get away, but Allison basically kept me hostage there until we finished and before they could make me participate in more bonding, I shouted I had to go help my mom, but came here instead.”

“Good man.”

“Hi Scott,” Sheriff Stilinski called from the kitchen. 

“Hi Sheriff! Making dinner?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve trained him so well,” Stiles said.

“So…Derek is coming to dinner?” Scott asked in a suggestive tone. He wiggled his eyebrows as well.

“Yes. And I fully expect you all to be on your best behavior. Do you hear that Dad? No gun talk at the table.”

“Son…” the Sheriff said, walking out of the kitchen. “What if Derek needs to use the bathroom? I don’t really know how to handicap that…”

“Dad, it’ll be fine. He has certain…equipment…to take care of that.”

“Do you have to change it?” Scott asked, pulling a face.

“No. There’s a nurse who comes by at the end of the day and does all the medical stuff. I haven’t met them yet, they always come at dinner.”

“Okay,” the Sheriff said, though he still seemed worried over the fact that he was going to have a disabled person in his house. 

At six o’ clock on the dot, the doorbell rang.

“I got it!” Stiles yelled and raced for the door for the second time that day. Scott and the Sheriff stayed at the table where they had been setting up for dinner.

Stiles opened the door to see Derek and Laura. Derek looked highly uncomfortable with a button down shirt and a freshly-shaven face. Laura just looked…somewhat pleased.

“Hi,” Stiles said. Once again he felt he was overstepping the bounds of their friendship and immediately regretted even inviting Derek to dinner, or mentioning dinner, or ever talking to the other man.

“Can I come in?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded and stepped aside, allowing for Laura to push in her brother to the hall.

“I’ll be back around seven thirty. Will that be long enough for whatever this is?” Laura said.

“Dinner. It’s dinner,” Derek grumbled.

“Um…yeah, sure. Seven thirty sounds good,” Stiles said.

“Have fun,” Laura said and ruffled Derek’s hair before leaving the house.

Derek slumped even further in his chair. Stiles pursed his lips and wheeled the man into the living room where Scott and the Sheriff were waiting anxiously. “Derek, this is my dad and my friend Scott. Scott, Dad, this is Derek,” Stiles said.

“Nice to meet you,” Scott said, giving a small wave.

“It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to you. Stiles talks about you a lot,” the Sheriff said, walking over and shaking Derek’s hand.

Stiles blushed and regretted this dinner even more. 

Derek didn’t smile or give away any expression. He merely shook Stiles’ father’s hand and wheeled himself over to the table. 

“So for dinner we have um…some salad, and some baked potatoes. We have some vegetables as well, asparagus…” the Sheriff said. He seemed to sense the uncomfortableness in the room between Stiles and Derek.

Stiles sensed it too. So did Scott. Stiles wasn’t sure what the problem was. Actually, yes he did. Derek was being as closed off as he was the first day Stiles met him. 

What a typical asshole move of him.  
Stiles decided to simply ignore it and engorge himself on dinner. He grabbed a potato and salad, and avoided the vegetables…for obvious reasons.

Scott noticed Stiles doing this, but didn’t mention anything. That was another conversation for another time. Hopefully never, but Stiles knew that Scott was just itching to talk to Stiles about his food preferences.

Most of the dinner passed with the Sheriff asking Scott simple questions about college and how his studies were going and what his plans were for Christmas. 

Derek sat in silence most of dinner, offering up a few noncommittal grunts every now and then. But mostly he sat and pushed his food around on his plate, occasionally taking a bite.

“So Derek, do you have any big plans for Christmas?” the Sheriff asked.

Derek snapped his head up in Stiles’ dad’s direction. “Um…Laura and I were planning on going to San Francisco. Laura’s my sister.”

“So I assume Stiles won’t be working at all next week if you’re going to be gone.”

“Dad,” Stiles said in an impatient tone.

“No. We already discussed giving him the week off.”

“So Derek, tell us a little more about yourself,” Scott said, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Um…”

“Scott,” Stiles snapped. 

“I’m into literature. I’ve been working on a novel, but I don’t think it will go anywhere,” Derek said after a slight, awkward pause.

“So you’re a writer,” the Sheriff said.

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know if you can really say if I’m a writer since I haven’t published anything. It’s more of a hobby. Something to keep me occupied, my mind busy…”

The Sheriff nodded. “That’s good.”

And then the conversation shifted away to sports. The Sheriff and Scott got into a heated debate about the Giants while Stiles kept trying to catch Derek’s eye.

He wanted to give Derek some inclination that he was sorry for how awkward the whole dinner had been. He wanted to apologize, to try and salvage their fragile friendship.

But Derek seemed to make a point of not looking at Stiles for the rest of dinner.

As everyone finished, the Sheriff and Scott both offered to clean up. There wasn’t any dessert. There hadn’t been any dessert after dinner for a long time.

Dessert wasn’t something Stiles ate right after dinner, but more of something that he ate at two in the morning when the nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone and he sought comfort at the bottom of a pint of ice cream.

The Sheriff and Scott disappeared into the kitchen and then Stiles turned to face Derek.

“I’m sorry they’re so…yeah,” Stiles said.

Derek shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Well it’s obviously not since you’ve been Mr. Sourwolf since you got here. You know, you didn’t have to say yes to coming over if you didn’t want to.”

Derek sighed. “Look, it’s not you. I wanted to meet your dad and friend. It’s just…this is a…rough time of the year…you know, without my, yeah.”

Stiles nodded, a sense of understanding coming over him. He knew how the holidays could be without a family member. Their absence was even more noticed in the time of the year that was meant to be family centered. He could only imagine what Derek was experiencing, not having any family except Laura.

“It’s fine,” Stiles said, not knowing if he should comfort Derek or maintain a respectable distance.

“Also…this is the first time I’ve left the house in…a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Two months.”  
“Oh wow. Hermit much?” God, how much of an asshole could Stiles be?

But Derek’s lips slightly twitched. “Yeah, I guess. Laura thought it would be good practice for me to leave the house on a small excursion first before we leave next week.”

“Are you going to be in San Francisco the whole week?”

“Yeah. I’ve lived in California for most of my life but have never been. And I miss the city so…”

“Will you be able to handle the hills with your chair?” Stiles asked, gesturing to the chair.

“Laura thinks so, especially since it’s a power one.”

Stiles nodded and the two feel into a more comfortable silence. He felt as though they had crossed several new barriers in their friendship. Stiles had managed to ask Derek about his wheelchair without it being weird and Derek had shared some personal information with him.

This new development made Stiles’ insides grow warm. He’d rather not think of what that meant.

Scott and the Sheriff came back out of the kitchen to say their goodbyes to Derek as seven thirty was quickly approaching. Derek was much more responsive saying goodbye than he was when meeting them earlier.

“You’re welcome back anytime,” the Sheriff said.

“I look forward to coming back. Dinner was delicious.”

“Try not to let Stiles drive you crazy,” Scott said with a smile.

Derek gave his own small smile in return.

Stiles walked with Derek to the door where they stood for a few minutes waiting for Laura to arrive.

“She’s always late,” Derek said as seven thirty came and went.

“You weren’t late coming here.”

“Yeah, well…” Derek paused before continuing on, “I uh…have something for you.”

“For me?” Stiles said, taken aback.

“Yeah. Since I won’t see you until after Christmas, I decided to give it you early…” Derek twisted and grabbed something out of the back of his chair. It was a small package and Derek handed it to Stiles rather hastily. He quickly looked away after Stiles grabbed it.

Stiles broke out into a huge grin. “Thanks dude! I feel like such a jack ass for not getting you anything now. I usually don’t do any of my Christmas shopping until like Christmas Eve so…”

“No, you don’t have to get me anything…”

“Dude, that’s not how it works. You got me something, so now I have to get you something. Be expecting it when I come back to work.”

Derek didn’t say anything, but his lips twitched in a small smile.

Laura pulled up the driveway at the moment and got out of the car.

“Did you have fun?” she asked Derek, sounding like a mom picking her child up from a birthday party.

Derek exchanged a look with Stiles before nodding. 

“Good,” Laura said. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to miss The Voice!”

“Bye Stiles. See you in a week,” Derek said.

“Bye Derek.”

Stiles waited until his dad had gone to bed and Scott had gone home (or more likely back to Allison’s) before he opened Derek’s present. 

It wasn’t wrapped at all. Just a simple cardboard box. Stiles appreciated it anyways. 

Inside were a collection of Star Wars sandwich cutters. There was several different shapes, one for the Death Star, a light saber and even one that could make your sandwich shaped like Yoda. 

There was a small note:   
Just in case you want to branch out.   
I really like your sandwiches.  
-Derek

He also had put his phone number at the bottom.

That warm feeling was back again.

Stiles was so fucked.

 

Two days later Laura Hale opened her front door to see a large package on the doorstep. It said “To Derek.”

Derek opened it up to reveal a pair of wheels for his chair. He frowned and then looked at the note. 

They light up when you roll them. Like in elementary school. Hope you enjoy pimping your ride.  
-Stiles.

 

The holidays passed like they always did for the Stilinski family. Stiles spent most of his time holed up in his room, avoiding the world outside his house as much as possible. Winter break was in full force and he knew that everyone from high school was bound to be home from college.

So the entire outside world was considered a danger zone.

On Christmas day, Stiles and his father headed over to Scott’s house and had their annual combined Christmas. Stiles gave Scott some new video games and Scott gave Stiles some new video games and they spent the rest of the day trying out each one.

Stiles and his father headed back to their house after a Christmas feast prepared by Ms. McCall and the Sheriff. Stiles ate his regular dinner and tried to avoid the gazes of everyone the whole time.

He knew they wanted him to branch out. 

But not on the holidays. They were meant for a special time.

Finally Stiles was sprawled out on his bed, staring at his phone. He was staring at Derek’s number that he had programmed into his phone the second he had gotten Derek’s present. He still hadn’t texted the other man.

He had written out a simple text: Hope you had a great Christmas. This is Stiles.

It had taken Stiles almost half an hour to write up that text. He wanted it to sound friendly, but not too friendly, casual, but not too casual. He didn’t want to force himself onto Derek, but also he wanted to be Derek’s friends and friends texted each other…right?

Finally, Stiles took a deep breath and pushed send before he could change his mind. He then threw his phone across his room and buried himself in his covers.

Out of sight out of mind as a philosopher once said, probably.

When he woke up in the morning and finally had worked up the courage to look at his phone, he saw he had one unread text message from a certain Derek Hale.

Thanks. San Francisco is great. Hope your Christmas was good too. 

Stiles thought his face was going to break with the force of his smile. Derek Hale had texted him back. This was a whole new step in their friendship…he hoped.

Well, he was still being paid to be Derek’s friend and he wondered if Derek was thinking about that still and maybe Derek thought he was just trying to be his friend because he was getting paid an insane amount to do it and oh God why did he ever try to make another friend besides Scott.

Scott. 

He needed Scott. Scott had people skills.

Stiles dialed Scott who picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Stiles…everything alright?” Scott asked.

“Scott! Hey! Okay, do friends text each other on the regular?” 

Scott laughed. “What?”

“So I texted this guy and he texted me back and well, does that mean we are friends or what?”  
“Wait? What guy? Are you talking about Derek?”

Stiles groaned. “Yes I’m talking about Derek.”

“The man you’re in love with?”

“What no. Fuck you. Just help me with this okay.”

“Stiles, what do you need help with?”

“I need you to tell me if Derek and I are friends because we text? I mean, does that mean he likes me? He said he hoped I had a good Christmas.”

“Stiles, you and Derek have been friends for a long time. We ate dinner with him for God’s sake. You bought him that ridiculous Christmas present. You spend almost all of your time with him, even when you’re not working.”

“So…that means…”

Scott sighed. “It means that yes, you guys are friends.”

“Do you think that he only wants to be my friend because I’m being employed to be his friend?”

“Stiles, I can’t answer that for you. You should talk to Derek about that. But this is exciting! You’re branching out!”

“Yes yes, I’m evolving like a Pokemon. So, you think I should talk to Derek?”

“You know what Stiles, you do whatever you want. This is your weird crush and I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“It’s not a crush!” Stiles almost shouted, feeling himself getting red in the face.

“The more you deny it, the more it is true.”

“You are the worst.”

“I’m going to go now. You going to be alright?”

“I suppose.”  
“Talk to you tonight bud,” Scott said and hung up.

Stiles groaned and fell back onto his bed. Life had been so much better when he only had one friend. 

He stared at Derek’s text and thought up a response.

It was fun. Do you like your present?

He sent it before he could change his mind again.

Derek responded within five minutes.

Yes. Laura thinks they’re tacky. I think they’re awesome.

Stiles couldn’t help the small giggle that came out of him. Derek thought his present was awesome! 

Alright, so maybe he lied to Scott, maybe he did like Derek more than he had admitted. But hey, was he really at fault for that?

Derek was beautiful. Derek had issues. 

Stiles was awkward. But Stiles also had issues.

Derek was trapped in Beacon Hills.

Stiles was also trapped in Beacon Hills.

Boom, match made in heaven. 

And Derek thought that Stiles’ present was awesome. 

Some warmth started to spread throughout Stiles. A warmth that he hadn’t felt in so long, not since the incident that potentially had ruined his life.

It was scary, but also relieving at the same time. This must mean something good, right?

For so long after the incident, Stiles had avoided anything even remotely sexual. He didn’t masturbate or even think about touching himself for months.   
So this, this beginning of a crush. Well, it was good. 

Screw his therapists. What Stiles had really needed all along was Derek Hale. 

But of course he could never mention his crush to Derek, or anyone. What if Derek wasn’t even gay? What if he was? What if he hated gays? What if he was secretly a woman?

What if Stiles told Derek how he felt and then Derek turned him down?

What if Derek laughed in Stiles’ face? 

What if Derek died?

All these thoughts flashed through Stiles’ mind in the blink of an eye. It was just too much. He couldn’t think about this.

He couldn’t do this.

And Stiles let out a choked sob and fell to his bedroom floor. When did he get so fucked up that he couldn’t even had a crush without it sending him into a panic attack?

Fuck his life.

 

Stiles had been back to work for two hours and it had probably been the longest two hours of his life.

Derek had told him every detail of his trip to San Francisco, but Stiles could recall none of it. 

He was too busy scrutinizing everything he did, where he put his hands, what he was saying, was he sitting too close to Derek? 

Stiles didn’t want to give away any hint at all to his feelings.

But unfortunately all of this thinking and scrutinizing every move he made led to some him not being a very good conversationalist.

And Derek was noticing.

“Stiles,” Derek said, wheeling over to where Stiles was watching 19 Kids and Counting. (Derek was wearing the wheels Stiles had got him which made Stiles’ heart skip a beat every time he noticed.) “What’s up? Usually, you’re the one who is chatting my ear off, not the other way around.”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t really have much to say.”

“Nothing. At all,” Derek was smiling now. “Is it opposite day?”

“Well what do you want me to talk about?”

Derek shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re watching this god awful show?”

“For the family values. Duh.”

“Hey Stiles, will you be okay here for a sec? I want to give you something?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged, trying not to seem too excited about the fact that Derek was concerned if Stiles would be okay by himself. 

“Okay, be right back,” Derek said and wheeled out of the room.

Stiles sat for a few seconds, watching Michelle Duggar talk once again about marriage. He wondered what she would think of Stiles trying to hide his feelings for a man in a wheelchair. Maybe she would approve if she saw what a wonderful personality he had.

And how hot Derek was.

Derek returned with a white envelope in his hand. “Okay Stiles, so I know I already gave you something for the holidays, but this is from both Laura and I.”

Stiles sat up more, his interest peaked. “Alright…”

“Laura just wants to give you this because well, she wants to thank you for you know…coming here every day. And I want to give you this because…you deserve it,” Derek said. And now he was blushing. The great Derek Hale was blushing.

Stiles couldn’t help the smile that escaped his lips. “Derek, what is it!”

Derek handed Stiles the envelope which he quickly ripped open. His face quickly fell at what was inside.

“What is this? A Christmas bonus? Derek, you guys already give me more than enough money and this looks like a shit ton.”

“No, it’s not a Christmas bonus…it’s uh…money for tuition.”

Stiles snapped his head towards the other man. “What.”

“You know, for college…”

“Why would you give me this?”

Derek shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the situation. “Because Stiles I feel like you’re wasting your brain being here. You should go back to college and that’s enough for a semester at Berkeley. If you need more, Laura and I will give you more!”

“What? Do you think my dad and I can’t afford college?” Stiles almost spat out.

“Well, isn’t that why…you know, you dropped out, why you were so desperate for a job…”

Stiles almost laughed at the simplicity of that, dropping out of college because of fucking money. “No! No, that’s not why! And you shouldn’t assume things that you know nothing about!” Stiles was standing now and almost shaking from anger and stress and well, everything.

“Stiles I just thought-“

“No! You didn’t think! Look, I’m sorry your life sucks, but don’t try to fix mine to try and make yourself feel better.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

“Alright, then what were you doing? Huh? Oh let’s give some money to the poor kid whose secretly a genius. I’m sure he would love that! And then maybe our lives will suck a little bit less because hey, that’s what charity is for right?”

“Stiles-“

“No! Here take your money! I don’t want it, nor do I need it,” Stiles spat and shoved the envelope back into Derek’s chest, pushing him back against the wall.

Stiles moved to storm out of the room and possibly the house when he was stopped by a hand gripping Stiles’ arm, stopping him.

“Stiles, I’m sorry!” Derek said, looking highly distressed (and Stiles hated to say it, but he looked beautiful like that too). “Just, don’t leave.”

Something in Derek’s voice struck a chord within Stiles. He gave a silent nod and moved to sit back down on the couch, hands slightly still shaking.

The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, both men simply staring down at their hands in their laps.

Finally Derek spoke, “I was sixteen when I met Kate Argent. She was a substitute at school, for history I think…she was a long term sub because our teacher was on maternity leave. She was always talking to me in class and touching me…and then she started showing up at places around Beacon Hills where I was. And then one day, she just kissed me.”

Stiles was leaning forward, not wanting to miss a single word of Derek’s story and the other man was speaking so softly. 

“We started going out, well not even that. It was mostly just hooking up. She kept saying how it had to be our little secret and no one could ever know because she could go to jail. I didn’t think anything of it back then, I was just so excited by the wrongness of it I guess. But then after a few months, she kept asking questions about my family, and not just normal questions. She asked me about their schedules and when we were all together and things like that. I was still in shock that a hot older woman like that was willing to spend time with me.

“So I told her everything. Every question she had, I answered. Then one day, I had to stay late at basketball practice. Laura came and picked me up and we went home, but there wasn’t a home. It was in flames.”

Derek paused, looking off into the distance as if he were transported back to the day of the fire.

Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek’s hand, giving him a soft smile. Derek didn’t smile back, but he kept talking. Stiles kept holding onto Derek’s hand.

“My mom, dad, aunt, sister, cousins, they all…went up into flames. My uncle Peter survived, as did Laura and I. But Peter was in a coma and Laura and I were alone. Laura was eighteen and she had graduated high school so she became my guardian. We tried to stay in Beacon Hills, but it was too full of memories. Laura had been accepted in NYU and she wanted to attempt to continue normal life, so we moved to New York. I finished high school online and applied to NYU as well. Life went on, slowly.

“I hadn’t spoken to Kate since before the fire. I didn’t even think about her when we left. I didn’t make any connections to her and her questions or even think about her being the cause of the fire. The insurance report told us that it wasn’t arson and was because of some faulty wiring. But then in New York, I started getting emails from her. She would either be talking about how much she missed me or…she would talk about the fire.

“It was obvious she was mentally unstable, the way she talked about the fire. And then she started talking about how proud she was of it. That’s when I realized that she had started the fire. With some digging, I found out that Kate had actually been obsessed with my dad a while ago. She had stalked him and sent him mail and took pictures of him. He was married to my mom by then and finally went to the police about it and got a restraining order in place.

“But that didn’t apply to his son I guess,” Derek let out a dark laugh. Stiles squeezed his hand. “I guess she set the fire because if she couldn’t have him then nobody could. Laura and I tried to contact the police, but nobody in New York could do anything and we could never reach the police in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles nodded, feeling slightly guilty that his dad had never responded to the Hales outreaching to him. 

“I know your dad is the Sheriff, and I don’t blame him. Hell, Laura and I were emotionally compromised. We had lost our family. Any reasonable person would ignore us. So after we tried talking to the police, Kate started to email me, asking where I was. She got desperate. I think it was bothering her to not have finished the job. And maybe she had become obsessed with me and wanted to punish me for leaving her. I don’t know.

“I deleted my email, got another one, but then Kate found out about that one. I didn’t have a phone at this time so she couldn’t call me, but sometimes she would call Laura. We got scared and were thinking about moving. We had both graduated from college and the city was expensive. We were thinking about moving back to Beacon Hills to be closer to our Uncle Peter. He’s still in a coma, but he’s family.

“One day I was driving out of the city and then…” Derek paused, seeming to try and pull himself together. “I don’t remember what happened next. All I know is that I woke up two weeks later and couldn’t move my legs. The doctors kept telling me how lucky I was. That my spinal cord injury wasn’t as bad as it could be. They said I could have become a quadriplegic and not be able to move my arms or anything. 

“I had been hit by a car. The other driver hadn’t survived. It had been Kate.” Derek looked directly at Stiles as he said this.

Stiles nodded, one tear had fallen down his face, his heart aching for the beautiful broken man next to him.

“I guess I should be happy that she’s dead. But I felt nothing. I was in shock, trying to think about how I was never going to be able to walk again, might not ever have sex again, and have to use a catheter to go to the bathroom. I went to rehab after the hospital and there was tons of people there who were just like me, in wheelchairs. The people who worked there kept trying to get us to talk about our feelings and stuff like that. But I didn’t want any of that, I just wanted to walk.

“After rehab, we decided to move back to Beacon Hills. New York City wasn’t the best place for a man in a wheelchair. Too many stairs…too many people. Laura had gotten a house lined up while I was in rehab, this house actually, and we came back. I think she was hoping that I would be happier here, branch out maybe. But I was the same. I didn’t want to do anything, to say anyone. I didn’t even want to move here, but I didn’t have much say in the matter.

“Laura means well and I love her. She’s my only family. But sometimes she treats me like I don’t have an opinion, or know what’s good for me. Just because I can’t walk doesn’t mean I can’t think. So when she hired you, I was angry. Angry at the fact that Laura didn’t think I could make friends, or that I even needed a baby sitter. 

“But you were completely different than anything I thought you would be. I remembered you from when I lived here, people would always talk about the hyperactive son of the Sheriff. I thought you were the same. And when I heard that you had dropped out of college I had thought you were some punk kid who thought he was too good for college. And I sort of hated you because you weren’t doing everything you could, that you were wasting your ability to walk…

“And then you came in that one day, shaking and face all pale and you just looked like how I felt…like your whole world had collapsed. I don’t know it was just that I had never seen someone else who looked that way. I hated everyone who could walk, thought that they didn’t have any problems, that they’re lives were perfect.”

“My life is anything but perfect,” Stiles said softly.

“Exactly. I don’t know, you just helped me accept my situation…my life, just by showing your vulnerability, your brokenness. So this money, I didn’t mean it to be anything other than an attempt to help you. I want you to do things with your life, because well…you can. I honestly don’t know why you’re not in college, and I guess I shouldn’t have assumed it was because of money or anything like that.”

Stiles nodded, “You shouldn’t have.”

Derek moved and took Stiles’ other hand in his own. “Look Stiles, I know you have issues and I know that you may think that there’s no hope, but you can start over again. I have, and so can you.” 

Derek was looking right into Stiles’ eyes. 

Stiles looked away and ripped away his hands. “I don’t need your help.”

“I just want-“

“No, I don’t need your charity. Thanks for sharing your life and I’m sorry that you have had the worst life ever. But that doesn’t mean that you have to fix mine.”

Derek looked down, “Alright, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“Will you just think about taking the money? And registering?”

“I will think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Stiles nodded and then stood up. “I…uh, I’m going to go home early today, if that’s okay. I don’t think I can be here anymore.”

“I understand,” Derek said, his face falling as Stiles made for the door.

“And Derek…I really am sorry about everything that’s happened to you. I’m sorry that the police didn’t do more to help you and your sister, and that people treat you like you’re worthless because of your chair. I don’t think any less of you because of what has happened to you.”

And then Stiles left before Derek could respond. 

 

Stiles was laying down on Scott’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. Scott was sitting at his desk chair, spinning around with his feet in the air.

“So, tell me what happened one more time,” Scott said.

“Okay, well I showed up and he was acting all weird and then he gave me this envelope with a shit ton of cash in it and he was all like ‘Stiles, now you can go to college,’ and I was like ‘Whoa, okay,’ so then I started to freak out,” Stiles said.

“Naturally.”

“And then he told me not to leave and then he told me his whole life story which is so sad! And afterwards he started talking about how I make him feel complete or something like that. Basically he started getting really deep and talking about how he wanted to give me the money just because…I don’t know,” Stiles said, turning over and groaning into Scott’s pillow.

“Did you explain to him why you’re not in college?”

“No.”

“Stiles, I think you should.”

“No!” Stiles said, shooting up. “That is not something I want to talk about ever!” He could feel his hands start to shake just thinking of it and his skin felt too tight for his body and-

“Stiles!” Scott said, getting out of his chair and grabbing his friend by his shoulders. “It’s okay, you’re with me.”

“Yeah…yeah, I know.”

“But Stiles, I really think you should tell him. He’s not going to leave this college thing alone and he bared his soul to you.”

“I know…”

“And since you’re totally in love with him, and if you want to spend the rest of your life with him, he’s going to find out,” Scott said.

Stiles groaned and pushed his friend away. “I am not in love with him.”

“You so are.”

Stiles sighed. “Maybe I am. But that doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I don’t even know if he’s gay or if he likes me in that way. Like you’ve seen him! And you’ve seen me! We don’t go together! This isn’t a CBS sitcom where the ugly guy gets the beautiful guy and they get into hilarious hijinks.”

“Stiles, you said he basically told you his whole life. I don’t think he would do that if you were just normal friends. He likes you more than you think.”

“Do you think so?”

Scott nodded. “Yes. The first time I talked about my dad with anyone besides you was with Allison.”

“Speaking of Allison…does she ever talk about her aunt?”

“Kate?”

“Yeah.”

“Not really. Allison said that they used to be really close, but then she said that Kate got really strange…and obsessive. And after the Hale fire, there were all those rumors you know, about if it was arson and Allison said that Kate was really obsessed with it and the Hales. I don’t think Allison’s family even attended her funeral.”

“Interesting…” Stiles said.

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about it buddy.”

Scott gave Stiles a look, but didn’t pursue the issue any further.   
“So, what should I tell Derek tomorrow? Do you really think I should tell him? What if he thinks I’m too…used,” Stiles whispered the last word, tears springing at the corners of his eyes. 

Scott moved to sit next to Stiles on the bed, his shoulder bumping against his friend’s. “If he thinks that, he’s a complete asshole.”

“It’s just…”

“Stiles, nobody thinks any different of you because of what happened. It’s all in your head, I promise you.”

“So I’m crazy, great.”

“You’re not crazy,” Scott said.

Stiles didn’t respond. 

Scott sighed, “Trust me, you’re not crazy. You’re slightly neurotic and hyperactive and annoying, but you’re my brother dude.”

“Ugh, you’re so sappy,” Stiles said, but there was a smile on his face. 

“Dude, talk to Derek, you won’t regret it.”

“I don’t know if I can…it’s been so long.”

“You can,” Scott said. “Trust me. You’re so much stronger than what has happened to you and look at all the progress you’ve made with your OCD and-“

“Okay, okay, this is getting too sappy for me. Let’s play some video games and kill some aliens,” Stiles said, jumping off the bed to hook up the xbox.

 

Stiles was shaking the whole drive over to the Hale house, his stomach a bundle of nerves and his heart was pounding. The four cups of coffee he had drunken that morning didn’t do anything to help either.

He had been up until three in the morning playing video games with Scott and then had tossed and turned in his bed until five, kept up by anxiety over talking to Derek and had barely been asleep when his alarm had sounded at seven in the morning.  
When he pulled up to the Hale House, he saw that Laura had already left for work and let himself breathe out a sigh of relief. He didn’t think he could handle talking to anyone else besides Derek, not now, not today. 

Derek was in the main room reading when Stiles entered through the front door. The other man looked up expectantly and gave a small smile. Stiles tried to give a smile back but his face seemed to be frozen in a state of anxiety.

“Hi Stiles,” Derek said. 

“Derek, I want to…to um talk to you,” Stiles said, feeling increasingly more awkward as he took off his jacket and placed it on the coat rack.

“Is this about…?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “Can we go to your den?”

“My den?” Derek said, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, where you watch your reality shows.”

“Oh. I guess it is my den.”

Stiles smiled and he followed Derek to the other room where they had had their confrontation yesterday. Stiles took his usual seat on the couch and Derek wheeled up next to him. The room suddenly felt too small for the two of them…Stiles was very aware of Derek breathing so close to him, of the proximity of their bodies.

Even though they had held hands yesterday, this felt much more intimate…just being next to each other. 

“My friend Scott thinks that I should talk to you…about why I dropped out,” Stiles said, finding it hard to form words all of a sudden. He had always been sort of a rambler, but when it came to this…well.

Derek simply nodded.

“And you should just know, that it took me a long time to even talk to my dad about this…so don’t judge me if…yeah.”

Derek just sat there, staring at Stiles. Stiles couldn’t help but feel both comforted and uncomfortable under the force of the other man’s gaze. 

“So…uh, I went to Berkeley. Well, I guess you knew that,” Stiles let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“Stiles, just relax,” Derek said.

“Ok, yeah, relax. I am on it.” But Stiles’ breathing picked up and his heart began to pound and oh God, the room was too small and he had to get out, to leave Beacon Hills, leave California and-

Derek reached out and grabbed Stiles’ hand. “Relax.”

That helped. Stiles took a deep breath and started over. “For college, I kind of didn’t want to stay in California. But I couldn’t leave my dad all alone. My mom had died when I was ten…she had a form of dementia. It was difficult for both of us; we had a lot of hard months. So I guess I was worried that my dad would relapse if he was all alone again.”

Derek nodded, keeping his gaze right on Stiles. Stiles just looked at where their hands were interlocked. 

“Berkeley was great. I had discovered that I was gay my senior year of high school and at Beacon Hills there weren’t that many other homosexuals. But at college, it was great. I had never had a boyfriend, well, there was a girl I had been obsessed with for basically forever, but then she started dating an asshole and I wasn’t into girls anymore. 

“So my first couple of weeks there, I started talking to this one guy, Matt. He was in a lot of my classes and seemed really into me. We had a lot of study dates together and he nice and didn’t mind me rambling. He wasn’t really the type I ever expected myself being with, he was rushing a frat and was super into photography, but we just sort of clicked. 

“About a month and a half into college, Matt asked me on a date for real. We went into town and went to a fancy restaurant and afterwards we made out in his car. Then we went on a few more dates and then Matt asked us to be official. I was so happy, I called Scott and just was screaming about it for hours,” Stiles said, giving a sad smile at the happy memory. 

He remembered how Scott had been happy for him, cheering him on and how Scott was so excited that his best friend was finally becoming romantically experienced. Stiles had even said that he thought he had met his own Allison.  
“So Matt was rushing this frat, right? And they were having this huge party. Now I usually didn’t go to any of the frat parties because it was just too many people for me and I couldn’t properly break out any of my fantastic dance moves with that many people. But this party was apparently really important for the people who were rushing and Matt was really into it and he was really persistent. So I went.

“Matt came to my dorm and we walked to the party together. It was packed, but everyone seemed to know Matt. And everyone seemed to know me, I guess because Matt talked about me or whatever. All the people in his frat were excited to meet me finally, which was a good thing I supposed. Anyways, we started drinking and I took a few shots and was feeling pretty good. Then Matt asked if I wanted to go upstairs, so I went.”

Stiles gripped Derek’s hand tighter. He was approaching the part of the story that he lived to forget. 

Derek didn’t object to having his hand squeezed into oblivion.

“Matt took me into this room, but there were four other guys in there. They were the president and head people of the fraternity. I was confused, but thought that they would leave. But then Matt started talking about how as part of rushing, he was required to share his life with the frat…to share everything. And then I tried to run, but I think Matt spiked my drink because my limbs weren’t working and…

“They grabbed me…and…” Stiles stopped, feeling tears prick at his eyes. No, he wasn’t going to cry over these assholes anymore. He was done. But a tear slid down his cheek anyways. He could still perfectly imagine that room, their voices, their hands.

“Yeah, you get the picture,” Stiles said finally, after a moment of silence. He still hadn’t looked at Derek’s face, just at their hands.

“Obliviously I dumped Matt after. I stayed in my dorm for a week, not going to any of my classes. I didn’t talk to anyone. I took probably thirty showers. And I thought I was going to be fine. I was considering reaching out to campus security, talking to someone…but then, I got a call in the middle of the night. It was one of the men from the party…they said that if I were to ever tell anyone, they would publish all of the pictures they took that night.

“I was sort of scared, but then decided to fuck it. I went and talked to campus security and then I found out that one of the people who…yeah, they were the son of the Dean. So it kind of got swept under the rug. And then the guys found out and next thing I knew everyone at Berkeley had pictures of me being gang raped.  
“Those assholes,” Derek spat.

Stiles let out a dark laugh. “Yeah, I know. I couldn’t go anywhere on campus anymore, it had become my prison. And I was having panic attacks and failing all my classes. Students would harass me on the street, grabbing my ass and things like that. None of the faculty did anything, I don’t think they noticed, or cared. It was college, we were on our own. And a few of my friends tried to stand up for me, but they were the minority. Finally I just packed up everything and got on a bus and came back to Beacon Hills.

“My dad didn’t know what had been happening, so when I showed up he was a little horrified. And when I saw him, I just broke down and started crying and told him the whole story. He wanted me to go to the authorities, to report them. But I was done…I was so tired. I stayed at home for a while, and my dad tried to get me to go back to school, but I couldn’t. So finally, he just pulled me out.

“I have a lot of issues left over…in case you can’t tell, I have OCD. I have to have my food in a particular way. It used to be a lot worse, but it’s still there. I guess I just want control…because I haven’t had control in such a long time. I do some weird rituals around my house…but…yeah. 

“I’ve thought about going back a lot actually, once I even was enrolled and was about to go, but then I just…couldn’t. I wish I could, but I can’t.” Stiles stopped talking and finally gathered the courage to look up at Derek.

Derek was staring straight at him still, his face not betraying any emotion that he felt. 

“I think I will go to college one day. Or some form of higher education. But not now,” Stiles said. For some reason he felt like he had to prove himself to Derek, prove why he was still sitting around on his ass.

But he had a pretty damn good excuse. Well, at least Stiles thought it was a good excuse.

Derek still didn’t say anything.

Stiles took his hand out of Derek’s. “C’mon man, say something please, you’re starting to freak me out.”

“I’ll be right back,” Derek said and wheeled out of the room.

“Um…alright…” Stiles said, too stunned to say anything. He was still too emotionally compromised to move, but that was alright. Derek said to stay put.  
Derek wheeled back into the room after a few moments and he was carrying his laptop. He opened it up on his lap and started to type something.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

“Hold on.” Derek continued to type and Stiles sat on his hands to keep them from shaking.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Derek turned around his laptop to face Stiles. On the screen was the homepage for the community college in Beacon Hills.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“You say you can’t go back to college yet. And that’s fine. Stiles what happened to you was horrible. I can’t even begin to express how sorry I am. But you have to move on, trust me. And I know that you’re not ready to go to a full time four year school, but this…this is ten minutes down the road. You don’t have to commit to anything really…Stiles, you can’t keep being my babysitter forever. And what are you going to do after this job, huh?”

Stiles shrugged, never really bothering to think that far ahead. 

“Exactly,” Derek said. “I will pay for you to go to classes, or if that makes you uncomfortable, then you and your dad can pay. But Stiles, you have to do this. And you can’t put this off anymore. It’s been four years; do you really want to keep hiding away like this? Your friends are going to move off soon, go on with their own lives and you’re still going to be sitting here on your ass!”

Stiles didn’t speak, didn’t trust himself to speak.

“You’re a gifted young man, you’re passionate and loving and Stiles, you can do anything. But unfortunately in this world, you need an education to do something. Please…” Derek’s voice became slightly desperate now, pleading with Stiles, “I can’t just sit back and watch you waste your life.”

“I’m just…so scared,” Stiles said and a lone tear fell down his face.

Derek moved his laptop to the coffee table and wheeled as close as he could to Stiles. He wiped away the tear from Stiles’ cheek. “I know, but you don’t have to be scared anymore. I won’t ever let those people hurt you again?”

Stiles let out a half sob half laugh. “And why would you do that? You’re just my employer.”  
“Oh Stiles…” And before Stiles could respond, Derek’s lips were on his own.

It was soft and tender and so opposite the asshole that Derek had been when they first had met. Stiles barely had time to wrap his mind around what was happening before it ended.

“Sorry…” Derek said, blushing.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Stiles said, a small grin appearing on his face. “That was…”

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Derek said. “And Stiles, I don’t want to just be your employer anymore. I want to be…something more with you. If you don’t mind the whole…wheelchair situation.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t mind.”

Derek smiled.

“And Derek…I think I’ll sign up. Just for one class at first. I’ll see how it goes,” Stiles said…voice trailing off.

He was still terrified of the whole prospect. He had lost so much control of his life four years ago and had spent the last couple of years trying to get it back. He spent months in and out of therapist’s offices and spent hours lying on his dad’s bed just crying.

He also spent months being angry, angry at Scott for being normal, at his mother for giving him a predisposition to having a fucked up mind, angry at his dad for being too understanding and not pushing him to go back to school, angry at Matt for ruining his life, angry at the four men who basically stripped him away to nothing but a toy.

But now, sitting next to Derek who had also spent the past couple years of his life angry and confused and sad, filling out a form for classes at higher education, he could picture the next four years of his life being better.

And for dinner, he was in the mood for Mexican.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for mentions of gang rape and recovery from that. And sexual assault in college and just people being assholes in general, especially Kate Argent.   
> Also, I know that sexual assault is taken much more seriously in college than represented here. Just for fictional purposes, believe this. But seriously, if something happens to you, please speak up.


End file.
